


Three Little Words

by Kantayra



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atobe is jealous. Tezuka finally gives him what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Little Words

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Три коротких слова](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164662) by [Indrik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indrik/pseuds/Indrik)



“No!” Atobe’s voice grew louder – loud enough that it attracted attention from a number of the spectators. “I will _not_ calm down!”

“You’re making too big a deal out of this,” Tezuka sighed wearily. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“Didn’t mean anything?” Atobe demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and sulking. “I _saw_ the way the two of you looked at each other.”

“It was nothing,” Tezuka insisted. “Our teams played at Prefecturals and—”

“Oh, yes,” Atobe cut him off. “I know. _Believe_ me. I’ve heard all about the ‘captain’s rapport’ or whatever it is you’re supposed to have with him.”

“Well,” Tezuka got annoyed, “his team’s story is very inspirational. What do you want me to do?”

“I _want_ you to realize that you could do so much better than _Fudomine_ ,” Atobe snapped and turned his back on Tezuka in a huff.

Tezuka let out a long breath to calm himself down and laid an apologetic hand on Atobe’s shoulder. “I promise you,” he said solemnly. “There is _nothing_ going on between me and Tachibana.”

Atobe bit his lip but looked a bit mollified at Tezuka’s touch. “I heard what he said,” he repeated, but most of bite was gone from his accusation. “‘Oh, Tezuka! Let’s meet at Nationals.’”

“It was just a bit of encouragement,” Tezuka insisted. “It’s something we say to each other for luck. That’s all.”

Atobe turned half back around to face him. “Well, fine, then. What about Sanada?”

“What _about_ Sanada?” Tezuka asked wearily.

“I _know_ about that game the two of you played in the Juniors’ Tournament,” Atobe huffed.

“That was over three years ago,” Tezuka insisted.

“Well, _Sanada_ seems to remember it like it was yesterday. If you listen to him talk about it, it’s like you’re his entire goal in life,” Atobe glared.

Tezuka cupped Atobe’s cheek in what he hoped was an encouraging gesture. “I don’t know anything about Sanada. That’s his business.”

“He’s _obsessed_ with you,” Atobe insisted, although he leaned into Tezuka’s grasp just a little.

“So let him be. I’m not obsessed with him.”

“Closer to home, then,” Atobe refused to relent. “What about that little brat of yours? I’ve heard some mighty suspicious rumors involving ‘pillars,’ and that _better_ not be a euphemism for what I think it is.”

“That’s entirely different. It’s my job as captain to secure Seigaku’s future as a team after I’m gone,” Tezuka explained. “That would be like me being jealous of you and Hiyoshi. It’s not even the same kind of relationship.”

Atobe conceded this. “Fuji?”

“Fuji plays around with _everyone_. I’m looking for something more serious than that,” Tezuka confessed softly.

Atobe let out a little “humph.”

“What do I have to do to convince you?” Tezuka asked, bewildered.

Atobe glared at him and pulled away again. “Like you don’t know.”

“I _don’t_ know!” Tezuka insisted.

“Well, you should!” Atobe stalked off again.

Tezuka followed after him. “I can’t possibly read your mind. Tell me.”

“If you were really serious about us, you would _know_ what I was thinking,” Atobe insisted.

“That’s entirely unreasonable! I’m not a mind-reader.” Tezuka caught his arm again and spun him back around. “Now, _tell me_!”

Atobe’s eyes darted to one side.

“What can I do to make things better again?” Tezuka asked softly.

Atobe sighed, rolled his eyes heavenward for one moment, and then looked at Tezuka squarely in direct challenge. “They’re only three little words,” he demanded.

Tezuka’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Oh. That.” He cleared his throat. “All right, why don’t we meet on the street courts tomorrow and—”

“Not tomorrow,” Atobe insisted, “ _now_.”

Tezuka looked around. They’d gained quite the audience with their little scene. “Can’t we at least go somewhere private? People are looking.”

Atobe’s scowl deepened. “If you really meant it, then you wouldn’t care how many people heard you. Hell, you’d announce it to the whole stadium!”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Tezuka insisted.

“No, I’m not! Either you mean it and you’ll say it right now, or you’re just trying to mollify me, and you don’t feel the same way I do at all.”

“I’m not just leading you on,” Tezuka promised. “I _swear_.”

Atobe tapped his foot impatiently.

Tezuka hesitated. “Why don’t we at least go back to the changing rooms and—?”

Atobe stalked away angrily. “Maybe I should go find _Sanada_ ,” he called back over his shoulder. “At least _he_ seems to take these things seriously!”

Tezuka watched him go, looking devastated for a minute, and then sputtered out, “A-Atobe, wait! Please, I… I…”

Atobe refused to slow his stride even for a second, although he was definitely listening closely.

The onlookers were listening very closely as well.

And Tezuka finally blurted out loudly enough that _everyone_ in the vicinity heard it loud and clear: “ _You’re my rival!_ ”

Atobe spun back around, a broad grin crossing his face. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes,” Tezuka was blushing, probably because his declaration had earned him several polite claps from the spectators, “I do.”

“Am I your _arch_ -rival?” Atobe asked hopefully, coming to stand before him once more.

Tezuka nodded seriously. “My one and only,” he assured him.

Atobe’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, Tezuka, you’ve made me the happiest player on the circuit!”

Tezuka extended a cautious hand. “Now, will you play me? E-Court should be free.”

Atobe graciously accepted. “Of course. I could never refuse a match with you. After all, you’re _my_ rival, too.”

Side-by-side and with rackets gripped in hand, they walked off together into the sunset to their court.

“Tennis players!” one of the onlookers snorted.

“Crazy, the whole lot of them!” agreed another.

Truer words had never been spoken.


End file.
